Concerto in the key of Camaro

Oh, how I laughed when I first heard about the resurrection of the Camaro. Just what our fuel famished society needs. Another rear-wheel drive, overpowered muscle car?

And every time I saw one on the street, there was a guy driving it. Sometimes younger, sometimes older, but definitely male. Perhaps this might be the man-magnet I was looking for. So, I put in an order with the nice folks at GM.

Even in the vastness of GM’s parking lot, the beast stood out. Black with Inferno Orange striping which nicely matched the Inferno Orange interior. Which matched my hair beautifully. Right away, I knew this was a match made in heaven.

Then I turned the key. Oh. My. God. The brute thrashed and snorted to life, with the sound of a thousand furies. Pouring out of the exhaust were throbbing bass notes I didn’t know existed outside of Edgar Winter.

It assaulted my ears like a calamity on wheels. This was a machine. You don’t drive it. You operate it.

Inside, the beast had more toys than Santa Claus. There were three, count ‘em, three speedometers:

A regular analog speedo

A surfable digital readout, which also provided trip info, etc

A holographic display dubbed the Head Up Display (HUD), that floated on the windshield in front of the driver, which was also a tach and a thermometer.

There was a huge touch-screen with more software than my iPad – and just to keep you grounded, four square beveled analog gauges for oil pressure, etc. I didn’t know where to look first.

Rowing those 426 eager horses through six gears took some serious brawn, as did latching and unlatching the convertible roof. Clearly, this car was meant for someone who bench presses 300 pounds a day. But they can’t be much over five foot five, since with the roof down, the cabin was pretty claustrophobic. I had to make appointments with both my physio and my shrink.

Muscling the Camaro’s menacing snout around town was intoxicating. It was a force to be reckoned with, and everyone around me knew it. A McLaren shrieked out in front of me, and the slightly balding driver glanced over at the stoplight. He didn’t seem to care that there was a redhead with big glasses at the wheel, and peeled away with a mighty roar. I followed closely, bellowing and rumbling away. It was as much a contest of bedlam as it was bravado. I’d like to think I won.

My friends were amused by my latest acquisition. “Did it come with a case of beer, Jays tickets and a Bob Seger CD?” asked one friend. I picked up a girlfriend to check out the newest outlet mall, and as we were backing out of her driveway, she tremulously inquired if I had blown a tire. I assured her, it was supposed to sound like that. And wondered if the Camaro should come with a bumper sticker that said, “My other car is a Harley.”

It was like dating a bad boy, the kind of guy whose muscles are festooned with tattoos. He doesn’t have much of a vocabulary, but who cares? Every time he raises an eyebrow, the machismo is overwhelming. His powerful grip could crush your hand and sweeps you off your feet. How could I resist?

And between the thundering exhaust and the garishly striped hood, I attracted way too much attention. Complete strangers – men and women of every age – would approach me at traffic lights, stop signs, any opportunity, to tell me what a fantastic car I had. A very pregnant woman at a bus stop gave me the thumbs up as I drove by. A couple of skateboarders chased after me by the Lakeshore. A tuner kid in his tricked out Mazda3 played cat and mouse with me on the 401.

But my bad boy had a drinking problem.

One trip to the gas pump was all it took to reveal his thirst. I couldn’t afford his habits.

So we parted ways, the brute and I, before he could break my heart – and my bank account.

But I’ll always treasure the thrill of that prodigiously booming bassline.

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21 Comments on "Concerto in the key of Camaro"

Aw the Camaro. it does bring back some fond memories if my early days. I so agree with you. It really does feel like dating a bad boy who has a drinking problem… LOL. Nevertheless it was/is still fun, huh. 🙂

Susan, I remember the guys who drove the big muscle cars, and although they weren’t necessarily bad boys, that’s the image they wanted to portray. So they got a car that would display them in that light. But this one definitely had a drinking problem – pain at the pump, for sure : ))

Sometimes it just takes one date and you know. Match or no match. And it’s quite fun bringing a girlfriend with you – they’ll let you know without a doubt. Yes; lots of Camaros around where we live. Some quite well kept too. Good one!

Ain’t it the truth?! The chemistry needs to be there. And a caring girlfriend – of which I’m fortunate to have many – will never steer you wrong. We had our moment, but alas, I just don’t think it was meant to be …

I liked the Camaro back in the 80’s when one of my teachers had one but that was the only perspective I had of it until I drove a rental for work. I loved how fast it was, the low center that allowed me to hug the curves when coming off of the acceleration ramps and the general look of the car but the windshield was a minus for someone with my vision. I didn’t like the low profile, otherwise, a good looking and fun machine to drive!

Hey Stephanie, it sure was fine to drive short-term. The Camaro hollers “butch” at every opportunity, from the inside out. Certainly not for the faint of heart or limp-wristed. My right arm still aches every time I think about the manual shift!

Yes, “bad ass” was one of the first things that came into my mind when I saw this machine. Although this one was pretty powerful – so much so, that driving it exhausted me. It truly does separate the boys (and girls) from the men!

What an excellent review. You had me laughing and appreciating a car that I would normally roll my eyes at. I drive a hybrid, so you imagine my disdain was immediately in place. However, there is something very appealing about a car that makes a big noise and can make its presence felt in traffic. 🙂

Debra, for goodness sake, if you drive a hybrid, this car would not be your style! It’s designed to make a statement, even intimidate, and for some reason, that requires a lot of gasoline. You definitely can’t ignore it! And that’s great fun for a week, but any longer, I would have been exasperated and – maybe even embarassed…

You can’t say Camaro without invoking something in the spirit of those of us of a certain age! Your post brought back all sorts of memories. I love your description of your Camar– what it felt like and sounded like and mostly what it is and what it stood for!

And that’s why I wanted to try it, Grace! I can remember the guys who used to drive Camaros back in the day – and I don’t think it’s changed much. That’s another reason why I stuck in the Edgar Winter vid! GM is still appealing to that crowd, young and old (boomer) alike.

This is an incredible piece of writing, Krystyna. The alliteration, the imagery . . . you amaze me.

Now that I’ve sat here at the coffeehouse with my jaw on the counter for a few minutes, I’ve remembered that I actually hate loud machines. Last Sunday while I was walking through Mt Tabor park I scolded a man in a flashy, extremely loud convertible for disturbing the peace and quiet of the park. Not completely sure he heard me over the thundering motor. But I felt glad I’d spoken up.

— None of which detracts from the excellence of your writing. Rock on, Krystyna. Thanks for your thoughtful comment at Diamond-Cut Life. I just replied to it.

Why thank you, Alison. I really enjoy what I do, and I’m glad it shows. The Camaro was a blast for a week, but I don’t think I’d be as happy with it long-term, and the noise factor would definitely be one of the reasons. It actually sounds more like a motorcycle than a car, which may have been the intent. A car can still sound thrilling, without being quite *that* loud!

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Krystyna Lagowski drives like a girl

And I’m proud of it. I also write like a girl, about topics that more and more girls are getting involved in. That includes everything automotive, as well as transportation related issues like commuting, urban design, bicycling, pedestrian rights, public transit, and more. Although my approach may be light-hearted and upbeat, I take these topics very seriously, and hope you do as well.

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About Krystyna Lagowski

I'm a Toronto-based freelance writer with a love for all things automotive. But I also bicycle, take transit and walk because that's the reality of today's urban existence. And then, I write about it. I'd love to write for you too - drop me a line at writer@drivelikeagirl.ca